


Hanging On Your Words, Living With Your Breath

by pr3ttyh8machin3



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: A Light Sprinkling Of D/s Undertones, Drabble Collection, M/M, Unconventional Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29553750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr3ttyh8machin3/pseuds/pr3ttyh8machin3
Summary: ten semi-linear moments from kamukura and komaeda's lives during despair.
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Kudos: 40





	Hanging On Your Words, Living With Your Breath

**Author's Note:**

> drabbles/one shots, around 100 to maybe 350 words long each. content warnings are there (if needed) but nothing is super graphic. they're all unbeta'd & sorta-mildly edited. 
> 
> title from one of the top five most kamukoma songs of all time, in your room by depeche mode. have fun

1.

  
  
  


There’s a key in his hand, and a man sitting in front of him. 

A screw type. Gaudy. Pink. The glitter rubs off on his hands. _Tacky._ It’s a telltale sign of who owned it before. Kamukura isn’t sure how he feels about that. 

Or about any of this, really. 

“I don’t mean to sound impatient, or to rush you, Kamukura, but please hurry.” Komaeda says over his shoulder. From his place on the floor, he’s shivering, ever so lightly. Such thinly veiled excitement.

So he hooks the collar around Komaeda’s neck. The latch snaps closed, metal icy against his fingers. He jams the key into the slot, twists it in until there’s a click. At the sound, Komaeda draws in a breath that breaks into laughter like shattered glass. 

But they’re not done yet. Even if the glitter never rubs off the key, even if her markings still remain— this will be a sign of who Komaeda truly belongs to.

“The box cutter.” Kamukura says softly, and Komaeda hands it over. The handle is damp. 

He lowers it to the collar and carves. 

  
  
  


2\. 

  
  
  


Komaeda wonders if luck is still at play. 

Kamukura is the one person who can best his own horrid curse, in all His talented wonder. They’ve suffered mishaps, subsequent fortunes soon after, but none are as catastrophic or miraculous as Komaeda has experienced. Those occasions are far and few between. He lives normally with Kamukura. (As normal as one can be in the depths of despair, of course.)

How to put it? It’s more like… How did Komaeda get so lucky as to serve Him? 

In all His benevolence. His glory. His brilliance. It can’t be anything other than good fortune, that he is Kamukura’s undoubtedly, and that the universe has brought them together. 

He shouldn’t be so content with what fate has brought him— should expect suffering in coming days. 

But for now, he is out of luck’s clutches.

  
  
  


3.

  
  
  


Komaeda is obedient.

Always known it’s not in his place to sit with the rest of the Despairs at the table— never has been, even when they were barely getting started. He's always had other motives, a different view they’ve all tried to convert into theirs. Komaeda’s been shunned from their glass table of horrors since day one. 

That’s fine. Because now, he’s earned his rightful place next to Kamukura, silent and observing at His side. He sits on his ankles, palms resting on his knees. Doesn’t speak unless spoken too, as if he’s waiting for an order at all times. 

And he is. As long as it’s coming from the man sitting above him. 

(Sometimes Komaeda wishes he weren’t so tall— he has an inch on Kamukura, barely noticeable to anyone but him. It’s so wrong. Komaeda should be below Him at all times, where he rightfully belongs.) 

When he’s being good, better than usual, (because, again, Komaeda is obedient, but they both know underneath the layers of obedience, that there’s a rotting core) he’s granted the luxury of a reward; He plays with Komaeda’s hair. 

To be so still when the one he loves runs His fingers through his hair, to desperately not lean into such kind touches... It’s a challenge. A test. Of his obedience, his patience. 

Hopefully, it is one he can pass with flying colors.

  
  
  


4\. animal death mention

  
  
  


This won’t end well.

“You know, I’ve never been very good with pets,” Komaeda has a pile of white fluff in between his hands, spinning in circles, “or animals in general. Maybe this is your influence, Kamukura.”

It’s a cat. ( _Female Native Japanese felis catus,_ to be exact _, 6 years old. Underweight, due to a lack of food, roughly 5 pounds._ ) A real, live cat trudging through the streets of Towa, clinging to life. Komaeda found her nestled under one of the sofas in Towa Hotel, still collared and sporting a bloodied paw. Like attracts like, he supposes. Komaeda seems to miss that.

Now, Komaeda has been holding the cat against his chest for about a minute and a half, and Kamukura can tell by the look in his eyes that he won’t be letting go of her anytime soon. 

“You want to keep her.”

Komaeda only smiles wider. “Am I that easy to read? I would be hesitant, but things are a little different now, aren’t they? White cats are good luck, as I’m sure you’re aware. Even if our luck is balanced, perhaps this is an omen.” 

As if for emphasis, Komaeda bounces the cat in his hands. The bell on her collar rings an alarm of impending doom.

But there’s a glint in Komaeda’s eyes, a look that makes Kamukura’s chest warm for a split second— and… 

When he thinks about it, he’s never owned a cat before. 

(It doesn’t end well, just as predicted. The cat wanders too far one day, and when they do find her— she’s beyond help. The SHSL Pathologist and Veterinarian in Kamukura wonders if there’s anything nearby that could assist in a necropsy. 

Behind him is Komaeda. “You were right,” Guilt plagues his voice, “as expected.”)

  
  
  


5.

  
  
  


“You’re growing pale.” Komaeda frowns. his thumb drifts over the apex of Kamukura’s cheek, hesitant to touch, but more than willing to tempt. 

“That’s what happens when the sun is blocked out for months at a time.” He doesn’t seem to budge at Komaeda’s selfishness, much less care. If anything, He seems to allow it. Yet no matter how passively He stares at Komaeda, he still feels like he’s doing something wrong. “What a fine detail to take note of.” 

Komaeda retracts his hand. “Well, that is my duty, isn’t it? To serve. To pay attention to you.”

There’s no response.

  
  
  


6\. implied amputation

  
  
  


“Where are you going.” 

Kamukura’s not one to ask questions often. If He does, it’s only to confirm something (as if the extra effort is really needed). There’s no inflection in His voice, and there never has been. Komaeda knows he’s not alone in the room, but there’s fear that sits in his gut like a rock that prohibits him from looking for Kamukura. 

“I just have an errand to run.” Komaeda brushes open the curtain of their makeshift hideout, “I’ll be back in a moment. Please take care of yourself while I’m gone.” 

  
Silence. Not permission, but he’s not prohibiting him either.   
  


Komaeda leaves anyways.

(Luck graces him with a chainsaw on the way there.)

  
  
  


7\. 

  
  
  


It’s a miracle that the city has working electricity. Phone lines that can properly carry calls from the Towa Sewers to mainland Japan. 

Komaeda’s alone, and it’s late. Monaca is sleeping peacefully in her room, Kurokuma has been shut down, and the stronghold is deathly silent— all but in Komaeda’s dingy quarters, where the battered flip phone in his hand manages to let His voice through crackling speakers. 

“Future Foundation is beginning to search for us. I suspect we are running out of time.” 

“Is that so?” Komaeda finds himself pacing around the room. “Then why are you coming to Towa? Surely Future Foundation and the others will incite a rousing battle, no? Why not stay?” 

“... I need to retrieve something.” 

He almost laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re paying me a visit! I have no interest in leaving Towa, not yet.” 

“I am not.” 

A smile Komaeda doesn’t realize he had falls. “Oh. Forgive me for being so presumptuous, then.” 

“When I arrive in Towa,” Kamukura starts, His voice even, as always, “those children will catch me with their security cameras. If prompted, you will not reveal my name, nor will you reveal our affiliations. I have no desire to be involved with the war in Towa City. Am I clear?” 

“Of course.”

(“How far away are you?” Komaeda asks when the call gets too quiet. 

“Two days on foot.” 

“Then I pray,” His voice reaches a shaky, breathy tone, surely annoyingly loud on the other half of the call, “that you make it in time to see Naegi Komaru become a figure of Hope, to watch the filth of this world be cleansed. I can hardly wait myself, Kamukura. It’ll be nothing short of beautiful.” 

“We shall see.”) 

  
  
  


8\. minor suturing/stitching, brief implied sex

  
  
  


“You are annoyingly reckless.” 

Kamukura is redoing his stitches. They were a hack job, really. Left with a first aid kit in poor condition and two massive scars jutting across his thighs, Komaeda had to make do. 

He doesn’t have a rebuttal. Kamukura only ever speaks the truth, anyways. 

He’s methodical as He works, laser fine precision as He pulls the needle through his skin. It’s not pleasant, but it gives Kamukura an excuse to touch him, and Komaeda has to stop himself from getting too comfortable.

Unexpectedly though, just after Komaeda falls into the rhythm of Him pulling the needle in and out, Kamukura is bold enough to punctuate the last of his sutures with a kiss. Light against raised skin, maybe too close to his inner thigh, and it nearly makes Komaeda jump. 

Then Kamukura is bandaging his wounds. Like nothing happened. 

“What was that for?” 

“I find it boring when you don’t speak, despite your irritability.” He smooths His hand over fresh bandages, “I chose the most optimal way to make you talk.” 

“Instead of just asking me to? I wouldn’t have objected. Kissing me is... undesirable, is it not?” 

“You act as if we haven’t done worse.” 

Komaeda huffs. “Touché.”

9\. light murder mentions

  
  
  


It is Komaeda’s turn to care for him. 

He’s willing to say it might be his fault he’s currently a mess. It is so rare to be entertained nowadays, despite the ongoing pandemonium. 

“I thought you weren’t the type to intervene,” Komaeda’s voice is encased in a layer of nervousness, or perhaps fear, as he struggles to run a bath, “Or rather, to be so brutal.”

“It was self defense. I was attacked first, and I acted accordingly.”

Murky water spews from the faucet a second later, Komaeda making an audible noise of disgust. He moves over to Kamukura, attempting to undo the now loosened knot of his bloodied tie. “I think we have very different views on what can be classified as self defense.” His tone isn’t chastising, but it isn’t praise either. Komaeda is the one scolding him this time.

When Komaeda struggles just a bit too long, Kamukura guides his hand to the lapels of his blazer instead. He takes his time, working hand lingering for a few beats too long-- some things never change, Kamukura thinks as he tosses his tie to the floor. 

“I suppose I could’ve gotten carried away.”

Komaeda picks up the tie and folds his clothes with a snort.

  
  


10.

  
  
  


“Hand it over.”

A gloved hand is extended towards him. It’s a Future Foundation employee, helmet and visor blocking out his eyes. It is apparent that he does not want to be here-- to look, even touch the Despairs. This is against his will. 

From beside him, Komaeda cocks his head in confusion. “Hand over what? We have no weapons.”

“The collar. Future Foundation may be taking you in, but we are not allowing any…” He pauses. “ _Personal_ items in your cells.”

He watches Komaeda’s jaw slacken just a fraction. Grazes working fingertips over the metal, as if he’s truly surprised. But Kamukura reaches into his inner suit pocket and pulls out the key. Ignores that weird feeling right where the key sits against his chest, and orders Komaeda to turn around. 

The glitter has faded over the years, revealing the rusted silver underneath. It’s a shame. No matter where they have gone, Komaeda’s servitude has been disturbed by the remnants of someone else. Now when those remains finally disappear, the two are to be separated and detained. 

He opens the latch, twists the key into the socket until it clicks. He removes the collar with his own hands, takes one last look at his name etched into the back, and forces himself to hand it and the key over. The agent drops the collar into a storage container (the lack of care for such a precious item almost makes him… upset.) and walks off. 

They’ll be handcuffed in a minute or so.

“What do you think they’ll do with it?” Komaeda is still rubbing where the collar once was. There are chafing scars along the columns of his throat. “I think I’ll be happy as long as they don’t destroy it.”

He takes too long to answer. 

When the Despairs are handcuffed and snuck into the lower level cells of Future Foundation’s headquarters, Kamukura finds himself agreeing with Komaeda. 

**Author's Note:**

> fun cool bdsm fact. sometimes those who are in a submissive role refer to their uhhh dominants with capitalized pronouns. thought that was neat. thanks wikipedia.
> 
> shameless self plug: m3teoraaa on instagram/tumblr. i am so sexy and cool and downright hilarious. you should follow me *smirks*


End file.
